Varrus the Ethical wrote:Roald draws his blade. "We're more trouble than you want. How about you hop back into those hedges and bother someone else?"
The man on the right, bald and stupid-looking, grunts-
''Woman."
The left-hand man, with a face like a hungry polecat, sneers and says-
''What he means is you give us the woman and we let you pass. We're soldiers. You'd better listen to us."
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
"Soldiers, huh? Well if that's true, then you should know a killer when you see one. Let us pass, or I will gut the lot of you," Roald points his sword at the man on the left. "Starting with you."
"Most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it."
Varrus the Ethical wrote:"Soldiers, huh? Well if that's true, then you should know a killer when you see one. Let us pass, or I will gut the lot of you," Roald points his sword at the man on the left. "Starting with you."
''Okay..."
The men lift their axes and charge!
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
"You had your chance," Roald growls as he spurs his horse between the two men, slashing both of them with two practiced cuts. He sends the hand of the talkative man (and the axe it held) flying away in a blood arch, followed by a downward slash that caves in a part of the stupid one's skull.
"Most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it."
Dominica sighs, happy to be unarmed. "You ass. If I die, I am coming back to haunt your sorry ass, Roald. If not, sleep with one eye open because you'll be haunting me." The red haired woman hops down on the side of her chest, keeping both eyes on the approaching men. If it is locked, I am screwed", she mumbles to herself.
One hand to steady the chest, the other attempts to unclasp it, so she can dump out her things and grab her short sword.
Reese rides away from the fray, nimbly moving his mount past the attackers.
tarlyn wrote:Dominica sighs, happy to be unarmed. "You ass. If I die, I am coming back to haunt your sorry ass, Roald. If not, sleep with one eye open because you'll be haunting me." The red haired woman hops down on the side of her chest, keeping both eyes on the approaching men. If it is locked, I am screwed", she mumbles to herself.
One hand to steady the chest, the other attempts to unclasp it, so she can dump out her things and grab her short sword.
Frantic, she claws at the roped-down chest. She gets it open just as the man behind her (she cannot watch both when they come at her from opposite sides) rushes up and strikes the flat of his broadsword across the mule's back! The animal bolts, spilling Dominica's gear all over the dusty road.
No short-sword in sight!
The other man slams into her side, knocking her flat on the hard earth. "Got 'er!"
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
Filbert looks around to make sure nobody is looks where he is standing and then moves towards the city trying to take cover and avoid the werehouses and tries to remain unseen at those that pass by.
- The first 2 Feats a wizard should take are "point blank shot" and "Precise shot"!
- W H A T ! ? !
- Or they should NEVER memorize rays!
"Right, right," Cormac agrees, "I was goin' to suggest that. The goodfolk of the Inn have been through enough tha' they may be unpredictable. Any other suggestions, Gunnar?"
"Of course," Benn mutters, "It would be a damned shame if we ever knew what the hell was actually going on."
Roald rides down the dusty road, trampling some of the things scattered by the fleeing mule. He slashes at the man grappling Dominica, and his horse tramples the unfortunate bandit.
Dominica twists and kicks, getting free. She lurches to her feet--
She feels cold steel press against her throat. Something bumps her backside. Hot breath, reeking of onions, flows over her right cheek.
"STOP, DISMOUNT, OR THE BITCH DIES!"
Roald wheels his mount to see that Dominica stands with a brigand at her back- the quick man in studded leather. The man holds a broadsword pressed against her throat.
"I'LL KILL HER, I SWEAR IT!"
The trampled, bleeding man rolls in the dust and groans. He tries to crawl towards the rightside hedgerow.
Last edited by ewancummins on Sat Nov 03, 2012 9:48 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
Dominica tries to stamp on the man's foot, but instead stamps on the hem of her dress and causes herself to trip forward. The man screams in incoherent rage and rips his blade sideways. Dominica shrieks as the sword rips along the angle of her jaw and across one cheek, leaving a red streak.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
Devlin recieves word that the Alamiens have a messenger at the River Gate, asking to parley with him.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
Riding up to strike off the bandit's head, Roald swings too hard and loses his balance. Worse, as he attempts to turn his horse, his saddle girth breaks and Roald is thrown into the hedges. Landing with a thud.
Picking himself up, Roald lumbers out of the hedge, filled with rage and wounded pride as he sees the last desperate bandit wrestling with Dominica. Marching up in a fury, he grabs the man by the back of his brigantine coat and pulls the man off Dominica.
The desperate wretch stabs at Roald with his dagger, but the small blade skitters off Roald's mail.
In a smooth motion, Roald brings his sword up and then slashes down at an angle, his bastard sword cutting through leather armor, flesh, and bone with ease. Opening the bandit from shoulder to hip. The man collapses to the ground, bleeding.
Roald drives the tip of his sword through the man's chest to finish him off.
"Rease!" Roald says as he pulls the sword out of the dead man. "Tend to Lady Dominca. I'm going to finish off the rest of these curs."
Roald looks for any bandits that are still breathing.
Last edited by Varrus the Ethical on Sat Nov 03, 2012 11:19 pm, edited 2 times in total.
"Most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it."
Filbert weaves his way through Riverside, sticking to the shadows as much as possible.
Twice he is stopped by Alamiens, but after seeing him the enemy warriors let him go with a jolly
''On your way, you scamp' and "Go and fetch us more wine, boy!'
Filbert sneaks close to the River Gate. He sees that the wooden doors are burned and wrecked, but a gang of sweaty men inside the walls are hard at work stacking timbers for a replacement barrier
A foppishly dressed, skinny, blonde man sits astride a horse before the soot-marked gatehouse, a white flag flapping in the breeze above him. The rider looks up at the walls and waves his hands over his head.
Trumpets blare within Haes.
Filbert slips past enemy soldiers occupying the buildings and dirt streets nearest the city wall, and clambers up a broken gap in the masonry. He wipes his face clean as he gets to the top.
Men – not Devlin’s knights, but more like tavern ruffians by the look of them—waiting on the top of the damaged wall surround Filbert.
"Is it noon already? What's this? The next attack?"
Laughter rolls through the crowd of brawlers and street fighters.
A big, russet-haired goon clumps forward.
“If you aint the other duke’s champion, who are you, half-man?”
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
